At a research station in Antarctica, five of the world’s top scientists have been brought together to solve one of the greatest mysteries in human history. Their subject, however, is anything but human . . .

THEY ARE NOT NATURAL.

Deep beneath the ice, the submerged ruins of a lost civilization hold the key to the strange mutations that each scientist has encountered across the globe: A misshapen skull in Russia. The grotesque carvings of a lost race in Peru. The mummified remains of a humanoid monstrosity in Egypt . . .

THEY ARE NOT FRIENDLY.

When a series of sound waves trigger the ancient organisms, a new kind of evolution begins. Latching onto a human host—crossbreeding with human DNA—a long-extinct life form is reborn. Its kind has not walked the earth for thousands of years. Its instincts are fiercer, more savage, than any predator alive. And its prey are the scientists who unleashed it, the humans who spawned it, and the tender living flesh on which it feeds . . .

Praise for Michael McBride

“A fast-paced and frightening ride. Highly recommended for fans of creature horror and the thrillers of Michael Crichton.”—The Horror Review on PREDATORY INSTINCT

Anya screamed and ran to Richards. Grabbed him by the back of the jacket and pulled.

“You have to help me!”

The freezing air buffeted her in the face when she looked up and saw a man only vaguely resembling Armand Scott pounce to the ground from on top of Connor. Snowflakes blew sideways past him and stuck to the walkway between them. His cranial deformity was identical to that of the remains she’d unearthed in Russia, only the physical expression of the flesh was for more terrifying than she could ever have imagined. She’d envisioned its face as being similar to that of modern man, but there was nothing remotely human about Scott’s appearance. Everything about him was alien, from the grayish cast of his skin to the way he twitched and moved in lurches, as though unfamiliar with the mechanics of motion.

Fissures crackled as they raced through the Plexiglas.

The creature scuttled forward and cocked its head, first one way and then the other. Blood dribbled from its mouth when it issued a hiss that sounded like steam firing from a ruptured pipe.

Anya screamed and threw herself to her knees.

“Come on!”

She grabbed Richards underneath his arms and shouted with the effort of lifting him. He found his feet, but couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the creature.

“It’s magnificent,” he said.

“Hurry!” Friden shouted.

The stairwell echoed with the drumroll of footsteps hitting the iron steps.

Anya looked back and saw several silhouettes bounding down the staircase toward them. She jerked Richards so hard she nearly sent him sprawling once more, but he regained his balance and stumbled backward with her. She took advantage of his newfound momentum to drag him away from the creature, which lunged forward, cutting the distance between them in half.

A scream from behind her.

She whirled to find Kelly in the opening to the Skyway, her hands clapped over her mouth. When Anya looked back, the creature was within ten feet of them and tensed to make another advance.

More popping sounds from above her. The cracks spread through the walls in her peripheral vision. Chunks of Plexiglas fell to the ground between her and the creature, which released a series of clicking sounds and retreated into the blowing snow.

A loud snap and a cable sang past to her right. The entire bridge shuddered.

“Hurry, Anya!” Friden shouted.

“There’s another one behind us!” Jade screamed.

“Start barricading the stairwell,” Evans shouted.

“And then what?” Jade asked. “We’ll be trapped in here without light or heat or any way to signal for help.”

Anya pulled Richards toward them. If she could just cross the threshold at the end of the Skyway, they could seal the creature on the other side.

Another cable snapped and the floor dropped.

Anya hit the ground on her knees and barely scrambled out of the way before Richards landed on top of her.

The walkway sloped downward toward where the creature crouched. The domed Plexiglas shattered and dropped enormous shards between them. The storm raced through the gap, creating a moving wall of snow between them that nearly concealed the creature as it approached, low to the ground and coming up fast.

A resounding thud.

The Skyway slanted downward, so steeply that Anya started to slide. She grabbed Richards by the back of the jacket with one hand and reached for anything at all with the other.

“Hang on!” Evans shouted and dove for her. He caught her by the wrist and halted her slide.

Another cable snapped and whipped the frozen glass beside them hard enough to shatter the glass and impale her cheek with tiny fragments.

Evans groaned and pulled her up toward the doorway, the seal around which was already buckled and peeling away from the building.

“Give me a hand!” he shouted.

Friden tentatively crawled to Evans’s side, grabbed Richards, and pulled hard enough on the back of his coat to pry him from Anya’s grasp, lightening her burden enough that Evans could drag her up the slope and over the fractured edge.

She scurried past Evans, turned around, and helped the others pull Richards into the stairwell.

Bolts snapped and structural rings disengaged. Bits of Plexiglas cascaded down the bridge toward where the creature crawled toward them.

A chasm opened behind it. Connor’s body slid through, tumbled out over the nothingness, and vanished into the storm.

“Close the door!” Anya screamed.

The creature slapped at the floor with its bare hands as the bridge grew steeper, digging its fingernails into the tiles in an effort to gain traction.

Evans pried the door from the recess until the others were able to help him drag it across the entryway.

The creature shrieked and scrambled uphill, blood dribbling from the gunshot wounds on its chest.

Ten feet.

Five.

It was nearly upon them when the Skyway broke away from the building.

The creature’s eyes widened. Its nails tore from the cuticles. It screeched and flailed.

The last thing Anya saw before they sealed the door was the expression of sheer terror on its face as it plummeted into the blowing snow.

“Someone help me!” Roche shouted from the landing at the top of the staircase, where he struggled to jerk the door from its slot in the wall. “It’s right behind me!”

Anya rushed for the stairs and hit them behind Kelly and Jade, who were already halfway up. She barely had the strength to climb and had to use the railing to pull herself higher. She nearly lost her balance when her hand slipped in something wet, but she managed to stumble forward and made it to the landing, where the others already had the gap down to a mere foot. A dark shape streaked straight toward the opening from the foyer on the other side, the light reflecting from its inhuman eyes.

“It’s coming!” Anya screamed.

She threw herself against the face of the door and used her shoulder to help the others drive it closed with a resounding thud.

The creature struck it from the other side, hard enough to knock her backward, but she braced herself and leaned into it again.

Kelly screamed beside her as the creature hurled itself against the steel door, over and over.

Until, finally, it stopped.

Anya desperately listened for any indication of what it was doing on the other side but couldn’t hear anything over the combination of their heavy breathing and whimpering.

She pictured Arkaim, with its twin fortified rings, a veritable fortress that should have been able to withstand any siege, reduced to little more than scorched rubble in the middle of a field, and the strange remains she exhumed near its outskirts. She’d made a terrible mistake in assuming that the coneheaded species represented a terminal branch in the human evolutionary tree rather than an off shoot from modern man, one facilitated by something lacking in humanity, something subhuman, the outward physical manifestation of which looked an awful lot like the alien species referred to as Grays.

Only there was nothing fictional about this being.

The creature shrieked and threw itself against the door one final time. It released a torrent of guttural clicks, then retreated into the station. The sound of its footsteps diminished until she couldn’t hear anything from the other side at all.

Anya stepped back and looked at the door. Her hand had left a smear of blood on the steel. She glanced down at her palm, expecting to find a laceration, but the skin was intact.

She took Roche’s flashlight from him and traced the railing down to where she’d slipped. There was blood on the rail, and even more on the wall above it, leading up to a hole in the exposed ductwork. Her heart sank when she gave voice to what they were all thinking.

“We’re going to die in here.”

Author Bio:

Michael McBride was born in Colorado and still resides in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. He hates the snow, but loves the Avalanche. He works with medical radiation, yet somehow managed to produce five children, none of whom, miraculously, have tails, third eyes, or other random mutations. He writes fiction that runs the gamut from thriller (Remains) to horror to science fiction (Vector Borne, Snowblind) . . . and loves every minute of it. He is a two-time winner of the DarkFuse Readers’ Choice Award. You can visit him at author.michaelmcbride.net.

After a summer spent in a haunted castle—a summer in which she traveled through time to solve a murder mystery—Kat is looking forward to a totally normal senior year at McTernan Academy. Then the ghost of a little girl appears and begs Kat for help, and more unquiet apparitions follow. All of them are terrified by the Dark One, and it soon becomes clear that that this evil force wants Kat dead.

Searching for help, Kat leaves school for the ancestral home she’s only just discovered. Her friend Evan, whose family is joined to her own by an arcane history, accompanies her. With the assistance of her eccentric great aunts and a loyal family ghost, Kat soon learns that she and Evan can only fix the present by traveling into the past.

As Kat and Evan make their way through nineteenth-century Vienna, the Dark One stalks them, and Kat must decide what she’s willing to sacrifice to save a ghost.

Excerpt

“I can’t help you now,” I said to the ghost beside my desk. I tucked my blond hair behind my ear and pushed my tortoiseshell glasses higher on my nose.

He remained there in his high-waisted, dark gray suit and fedora hat. Definitely circa the 1920s. He folded his arms and leaned against my desk, the picture of patience. “I can wait.”

I looked out the window in front of me. On the sidewalk below, parents helped my classmates lug their belongings into the dorm. Today was the start of my senior year at McTernan Academy. And a return to normal.

But this was the third ghost to visit my dorm for his reckoning, that one final piece of business they had to complete before they could move on.

Not believing in ghosts had kept them away for years until this summer, when I was forced to confront some incredible unbelievables—ghosts, spells, curses, and time travel. I couldn’t pretend to not believe anymore, so, since then, ghosts kept appearing and asking for my help. I wanted to help them. I truly did.

But it was exhausting. Every time a ghost appeared, it stole energy from the living. And I was always the nearest living person. I scarfed down junk food and sugary snacks to keep my energy up. It wasn’t enough. At seventeen, I had regressed to daily naps.

I’d spent most of August trying to get ahead of their reckonings before the school year started. I really thought it was possible. For a while, it even distracted me from my own issues; but senior year was starting, and the ghosts were becoming a serious problem.

I took a bite of my Twix and tried to reason with the ghost. “Someone might see you in my dorm. Can you all form a line and meet me in the park on Saturdays?” I could devote my Saturdays to the ghosts, just not my every day.

He glanced back over his shoulder and smiled like he saw something I didn’t. “We’ve been in line for years.”

A dull pounding started in the base of my skull. “I can’t keep up this pace.” My voice thinned the way a plastic bag does when you put too much in it.

His smile flickered. “But we need your help.”

“And there’s no one else?” I wasn’t the only person who saw ghosts. There were other believers out there. Some of them were my friends.

“No one quite like you.”

Sometimes I really wished I were mediocre. Being special meant that the ghosts were going to take over my life again. I couldn’t let that happen. Luckily, ghosts from his era were polite. He’d introduced himself when he arrived and that gave me the power to send him away. “Gilbert Wells, go away.”

He frowned and faded into a shimmer of dust that disappeared into a shadow.

It was the best I could do.

I got up and a wave of dizziness made me stumble. I needed to rest for a bit. I sat on my bright blue comforter, laid my head on my pillow, and was asleep in seconds.

K.C. Tansley lives with her warrior lapdog, Emerson, and two quirky golden retrievers on a hill somewhere in Connecticut. She tends to believe in the unbelievables—spells, ghosts, time travel—and writes about them.

Never one to say no to a road trip, she’s climbed the Great Wall twice, hopped on the Sound of Music tour in Salzburg, and danced the night away in the dunes of Cape Hatteras. She loves the ocean and hates the sun, which makes for interesting beach days. The Girl Who Ignored Ghosts is her award-winning and bestselling first novel in The Unbelievables series.

As Kourtney Heintz, she also writes award winning cross-genre fiction for adults.

I spend my life hunting Vamps and Fiends and killing them, but my main
goal has always been to destroy my evil father while keeping my
sisters at bay.

Sex, drugs and rock and roll keep me going. Oh, and killing things.

This supernatural horror thriller will keep you turning the pages. I
promise.

The curtain parted a moment later and a very confused, very surprised, male entered. It was my mark, and I could see the excitement growing in his beige pants.

“Join us,” she moaned to him.

I didn’t say a word; I continued to enjoy myself as she continued to play with me without missing a beat and, although I never wavered in my touch, I was enthralled by him.

This was very dangerous ground, but I didn’t care. I’d gotten out of harder positions than this. Yes, pun intended.

He didn’t speak; he simply took his time stripping out of his suit while watching us.

She pulled her hand away from me and motioned for him to sit between us, but instead he knelt before me and glanced at her. She took that as her cue, and slid her hands under my ass and pulled off my thong.

He kept eye contact with me even when she began to kiss his chest and shoulders.

I’d been in a few threesomes in my life but this guy was dangerous, even distracted with two beautiful women wrapped around him.

I slipped off to the side of the couch and let the two of them go at it. I needed a moment and needed to focus on what needed to be done.

She stood next to us and put her hands on his arm, smiling. I wondered if he had anything left in him to pleasure her. I almost felt bad but I was feeling so good right now that I didn’t care.

The sudden change in her expression put me back on guard. She stiffened her hands on his body, keeping him in place before me with my legs still draped over him.

When the curtain parted and someone stepped inside, I knew I’d been tricked. The jerk from the bar, Michael, who wanted to buy me a drink and wouldn’t go away, stepped in, his hands glowing orange.

I pulled the guy, who I thought was the mark, closer with my legs and slid two concealed blades from my boots.

“You should’ve let me buy you a drink,” the real mark said. He was now cocky, unlike the jerk he’d acted like at the bar. He’d suckered me in by acting like a loser to get me to drop my guard. I had. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again, and I was done chatting. I opened my mouth to respond and he smiled.

Before Michael could dodge I’d planted both knives in his chest. He fell back and pulled the curtain down as he collapsed in a heap.

I unceremoniously pushed the spent guy away from me, gave the stripper a withering stare, which told her not to move, and stepped quickly to the prone man on the downed curtain.

I slid the blades, bloody, from his chest and tossed them aside.

His hands began to glow again. “I knew what you were the second you entered the club.” He glanced behind me as he stood. “It was easy to fool you into thinking that he was the one you were looking for.”

“And easy to lure him here, where you hoped I’d be in a compromising position to keep me busy. You should have shown up sooner, because I was already done.”

He laughed at that and raised his pulsing, glowing hands. He’s what we call a Fiend, and a fairly advanced one.

He also wasn’t a match for me or my speed. I knew the two blades wouldn’t affect him but I’d wanted to give myself some room.

Right before he decided to blast me, I dropped to the floor and yanked another, slimmer blade from my boot. This weapon, blessed eons ago, passed down from necromancer to necromancer and given to me by my father, had always served me well.

The blade pulsed in my hand and shot forth of its own volition, impaling him in the throat. I watched as his look went from triumph to shock and then pain. He dropped to the floor, but this time I knew it was over, his hands extinguished.

I turned back to the stripper and the guy and smiled. “Help me get rid of the body and I’ll pay for the hotel room.” I turned to her. “Do a good job and I’ll let you play extra hard.”

Armand Rosamilia is a New Jersey boy currently living in sunny Florida,
where he writes when he’s not sleeping. He’s happily married to a
woman who helps his career and is supportive, which is all he ever
wanted in life…

He’s written over 150 stories that are currently available, including
horror, zombies, contemporary fiction, thrillers and more. His goal
is to write a good story and not worry about genre labels.

In 1629 something visited the parish of Feckenham. The events that
followed were so terrifying that they never gained their place in the
history books.

Now in 2008, something seems to be wrong with Marie Watson’s young
children.

Her father won’t believe her and her mother is nearing the end of her
tether.

Marie feels utterly alone.

But is she?

Helen stormed into the office and glared at DCI Royal with accusing eyes, she went to speak but Royal got in first.

“One word Roberts and you’re off the case too!” he said with an icy cold stare right back at her. As the two of them locked eyes, three people, cut and bloodied, burst in through the door at the rear of the office. A man in his late forties leapt on to the back of the seated DCI Royal slamming his icy stare into the desk with an almighty crack. A woman in her early forties knocked DI Scott to the ground and ran at Helen. She braced herself and took hold of her upper arms as she was forced back against the wall. DI Scott shuffled back into the corner and hugged his legs while the struggle ensued. DCI Royal was a bloody mess, bleeding heavily from his face as the man continued to smash his head on the desk. The third person, a boy no older than ten was on all fours as he crawled towards DCI Royal. Helen saw the boy over the shoulder of her assailant as he tore flesh from Royal’s leg with his teeth.

“Do something Scott for fuck’s sake!” Helen screamed, “Danny!” she yelled as loud as she could, desperately hoping that he would hear her. Scott had drained to white and was huddled in a tight foetal ball with his eyes screwed shut, he was helping no one and failed to realise he’d be next. The woman snapped her teeth towards Helen’s face but she was able to push away hard enough to make her miss and turn her around so she was facing the wall. “Danny help me!” she yelled again, now only able to hear the child chewing flesh rather than see it; it wasn’t any less disgusting. Helen pushed the woman’s arm up her back and forced her to the ground; still she gnashed her teeth and struggled to twist over. Danny cracked her across the base of the head with his baton knocking her out cold.

“Thanks,” Helen panted, reaching for her cuffs to make sure she wasn’t getting free if she came to. DCI Royal was dead and as the boy chewed on the flesh from his leg, the man was tearing at his throat like a wild beast.

“Who the fuck are these people?” Danny asked rhetorically. He stepped towards the boy and cuffed him with ease; the boy snarled and drooled like a feral dog, the meat from his kill spilling from his jaws. Helen took the child and sat him next to the woman with her foot in his chest to keep him from getting up.

“Scott!” she shouted, he was whimpering pathetically and struggled to force open his eyes, which were full of terror. The man stood tall behind Royal’s slumped corpse, sucking the slivers of flesh into his mouth. “Have you got this Danny?” Helen asked seeing him edge out from behind the desk looking at her partner. Helen grabbed her radio, “Hal, Moran; get to the control room now!” she shouted into it.

“Hey Roberts, you’re early; you and lover boy having a tiff?” Moran joked.

“Cut the shit and get here Moran, DCI Royal’s just been eaten alive!” Danny span round and kicked the man square in the side of the head; he folded over sideways hitting his head into the desk and then flopped flat out on his back.

“Better now thanks,” Danny searched the man for some id, he found his wallet and pulled out his driving license; he looked over at Helen.

“Sam Little, that’s the family I told you about; what the fuck happened to make them like this? I guess that’s Eve, and that’s Carl” he pointed at the others.

Hal and Moran ran into the office.

“What the fuck? I didn’t think you were serious, Jesus Christ!” Moran said seeing Royal slumped back with his throat torn open.

“Moran, keep it together and tie these three up properly will you; I’m gonna get some backup.” She stood back and stretched her leg while Moran and Hal took over restraining the boy. “And keep away from their mouths if you don’t want to end up like Royal.” she patted them both on their backs, “thanks.” Helen knelt down in front of DI Scott. “How quick can you get the armed response unit here sir?” DI Scott looked across at DCI Royal.

“Is he dead?” Scott whimpered and squirmed back in the corner crying.

“Yes he’s dead and you need to pull yourself together before we all are,” He just cried louder. “Scott!” Helen shouted, slapping him across the face, “you need to get the armed response unit here now!” He opened his eyes and Helen held his teary stare, “you need to step up and do this sir,” she said calmly; hoping to get through to him that way instead.

“Helen,” Moran wanted her attention, she looked up and he was gesturing towards the door as if to seek her advice; she seemed to have taken charge of the situation with her authoritative manner.

“Danny, get him out of here,” she saw a cameraman in the doorway filming the scene. Danny was on it already, noticing the man at the same time as Helen. He manhandled the cameraman out of the door and wrenched the camera from his grasp.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” he objected loudly. Danny proceeded to smash the camera on the floor. DI Scott had calmed quickly after realising the immediate threat had been quelled and he clambered to his feet.

“You can’t do that Curran,” suddenly he was trying to claw back his authority at the same time as sniffing backs his tears. Danny looked at him as he stamped the camera angrily.

“You want this shit on the news?” He gestured around the room, “you want videos of you cowering in the corner all over the internet do you?” The cameraman reached down and started grabbing pieces of his camera. “You get out, I won’t tell you again,” Danny said. Helen, Hal, and Moran all looked at him dagger eyed; the man left quickly, leaving his equipment behind.

Born in 1975, Matthew Williams has been a keen fan of the
horror/thriller/fantasy genres for as long as he can remember.
Whether it’s a film, a TV series, or a novel; he is drawn to all
the different aspects of these genres. Mainly it’s the complexities
and the mysteries that can be expressed with freedom and imagination
that he enjoys the most.

A fan of authors such as Stephen King, James Herbert, Dean Koontz,
Richard Layman – to name but a few!

A fan of TV shows such as Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, Breaking
Bad, American Horror Story – to name but a few!

A fan of films such as Saw, Seven, Eden Lake, The Descent, Quarantine,
Skeleton Key, The Sixth Sense – to name but a few!

Matthew now has a small body of work of his own with ‘The Shady Corner’
and ‘Shadowchild’ only the beginning of what he is determined to
grow into an extensive collection of horror/thriller fiction novels.

“We all hold a beast inside. The only difference is what form it takes when freed.”

Rain Ryland has never belonged anywhere. He’s used to people judging him for his rough background, his intimidating size, and now, his orphan status. He’s always been on the outside, looking in, and he’s fine with that. Until he moves to New Wurzburg and meets Friederike Burkhart.

Freddie isn’t like normal teen girls, though. And someone wants her dead for it. Freddie warns he’d better stay far away if he wants to stay alive, but Rain’s never been good at running from trouble. For the first time, Rain has something worth fighting for, worth living for. Worth dying for.

Mary Lindsey is a multi award-winning, RITA® nominated author of romance for adults and teens. She lives on an island in the middle of a river. Seriously, she does. When not writing, she wrangles her rowdy pack of three teens, two Cairn Terriers, and one husband.

Inexplicably, her favorite animal is the giant anteater and at one point, she had over 200 “pet” Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches. The roaches are a long story involving three science-crazed kids and a soft spot for rescue animals. The good news is, the “pet” roaches found a home… somewhere else.

Kane de Medici’s thirst for knowledge leads him into the dark vampire world.

Kane de Medici’s thirst for knowledge leads him into the dark world of vampirism. Working as an apprentice to the great master, Leonardo da Vinci in 1503, he encounters Brogio, one of Florence’s most wealthy bachelors. Their growing friendship coupled with strange events lead him to uncover Brogio’s inconceivable secret. Brogio is a vampire, the very first vampire.

Kane’s quest for endless learning has him propose that the vampire “turn” him so that he can become Brogio’s first vampire blood son. Reluctantly Brogio agrees, but Kane’s uncontrollable blood lust unleashes a plague upon the world.

This Snow Blood Series Prequel will delight fans of this beloved family of vampires.

Excerpt

So? How do I look?

I am not amused. Brogio stared at the mirror image of—himself. Kane’s gifts came slowly but plentifully. One of them was being able to transform into anyone or anything. Demons, mythological beasts, people… anything Kane desired. Unfortunately, Kane desired to torment his father by playing Brogio’s double.

But this could be useful.

You can imitate me, look like me, but you will never be me.

Of course, Father. Kane batted eyes disturbingly like Brogio’s.

Brogio turned to go back into the studio where da Vinci practiced an experimental painting technique. But Kane, thankfully in his own form, stood before him.

And I see you’ve gained in speed.

Shall we go speak to da Vinci about that art piece you wanted to commission now?

“Gah!” A yelp alerted from the other room.

Brogio shot his hand out and grabbed Kane’s shoulder, pinning his blood son to the spot. Don’t. Walk normally.

Thank you, Father. Kane sucked in a breath. Do you smell that?

Control. Brogio could also smell the blood. I will wait behind. You must control yourself.

I’m all right.

You’re shaking.

He’s hurt. Kane wrenched out of Brogio’s grip and went to the multi-talented master genius.

“Master?” Kane walked at a normal pace.

“Ah, my boy. I cut myself.” Da Vinci held up his thumb. Blood gushed from it.

Kane rushed over with a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding. It took all his strength not to bite into da Vinci’s hand.

“It’s not so bad, Master.” Not able to control it, Kane swooped down on the other man’s finger and covered it with his mouth.

Da Vinci struggled and tried to pull away his hand. “What are you doing, my boy? Are you drinking the blood on my thumb?”

Kane managed to firmly lick at the wound and alternatingly swab the damaged appendage with the cloth. Between licks he muttered. “A new technique, Master. Hold still and let me stop the bleeding.”

The thumb began to heal. The more Kane licked the more it healed. “There!” Kane looked into da Vinci’s wide-eyed stare. “It’s much better.”

The older man held up his hand and wiggled his recently damaged appendage. His thumb was completely healed. No scar could be detected. “How? How did you do that?” da Vinci blinked in shock at his apprentice.

“I… it wasn’t really that bad, master. I just stopped the bleeding.” Kane dabbed his mouth with the cloth.

“What technique were you using?” da Vinci turned his hand over and again wiggled his thumb. “I could have sworn I almost cut my thumb off!”

“No, no. You were lucky. And, yes. Physicians are discovering that saliva has healing properties. I just took a chance that it might work.” Kane turned away embarrassed at the obvious lie.

“Good work, young man. When we finish this mural, I’ll have to look into it further.”

Kane breathed a sigh of relief as his teacher turned to continue his painting.

This is not your normal vampire series… If you are one of those individuals who has yet to read the Snow Blood Series, this will be a great start…

– Dina Bushrod, Goodreads Reviewer

Absolute Perfection-Must Read. Carol’s style of weaving a story draws you into the book. You’re not just reading, you find yourself answering characters, or running with them as they hunt, or fight, “she’s that good!” If there is one book you don’t want to miss, it’s First Blood Son!

– inspectorrick, Amazon Reviewer

Purchase Links

Special $1.99 Promotion!
Available now for a limited time only. Grab your copy today.

Other Books by Carol McKibben

Be sure to check out all the books in the popular Snow Blood series!

Join the paranormal world of Brogio, the first vampire, as told through the eyes of his kindred dog, Snow Blood! The Snow Blood Series takes readers through the creation of the first vampire and how he saved a dying white husky to be his eternal companion. Together the two face a series of events that reveal sinister plots to destroy the father of all vampires and those he loves. Through it all, Snow Blood demonstrates the meaning of unconditional love and redemption.

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This series was such a unique and original experience. As told through the eyes of a Dog and his vampire family, Snow Blood was such a gripping tale brought to life on the pages of this book by a really magnificent story teller.

– Alina Hart, Amazon.com Reviewer

Giveaway

About Carol McKibben

Carol McKibben was a magazine publisher for 20+ years. Carol writes from the heart of a dog’s eyes. Her books help support her dog rescue efforts and focus on unconditional love. Carol, her lab Thor and Siberian Husky Ty are currently working on new adventures. Go to http://www.carolmckibben.com or email carol@mckibben.com.

Thirty years ago, dark magicians unleashed new power on the earth fueled by
demons. Governments toppled, millions died and magicians ended up on
top of the food chain.

Twenty-four-year-old Becca survives these dangerous times by relying on her wits,

her fists, and the limited goodwill of her boss, a local crime lord. When
news comes of a fire back home and the family she left behind dead,
she realizes her dark past has finally caught up to her.

On the hunt for her missing sister, she must rely on Darion, a
treacherous ex-boyfriend with ties to the local coven for back-up.
Problem is he’s a pyromancer that can’t be trusted, especially
with her heart. Will she escape the sticky web of treachery and
deceit with her sister and her heart, or will she sacrifice it all to
save another?

Becca’s forced to navigate a dangerous web of deceit and must decide what
she’s willing to sacrifice to save her sister.

“…extremely well written, filled with wonderful characters, strange happenings,
and face paced action. I, for one, found it very hard to put down. I
can’t wait for the next book in the series.”

~Taylor Jones, reviewer

The tattoo on Becca’s neck prickled as she walked the crowded path to work. Searching for the possible source of magic, she continued forward, with coffee in one hand and the other resting by the knife at her waist.

She moved amid a throng of people, shuffling along the worn walkways. Heavy clouds were scattered across the sky, while dilapidated buildings surrounded them, a haunting reminder of what once was. A young man pushed past Becca, dressed in blue coveralls. He must be heading to the line. The tattoo on Becca’s neck prickled as she walked the crowded path to work. Searching for the possible source of magic, she continued forward, with coffee in one hand and the other resting by the knife at her waist.

The warehouse traveled up twenty stories high, the tallest building in town with a large fountain in front. It must have once been a beauty. Now the fountain, covered in graffiti, ran dry and the boarded up windows could barely keep the wind out.

A familiar, lanky guard stood watch on the side of the road. Could he have been the source of the magic warming her tattoo? He scanned the crowd with a demon dog at his side, a German shepherd with unnaturally large black eyes.

Turning forward, she let her dark hair fall into her face, not wanting to draw his attention. She stepped past the guard undisturbed. She could handle herself with the guards, but her boss, Nikko, constantly nagged her about keeping a low profile.

The crowds pressed together, and a large man knocked into Becca’s side, tripping her. She stumbled, spilling the remains of her coffee all over her black jeans. Someone swore as the crowd surged forward, and she stepped to the side.

At five-foot-five, she was on the small side, but strong enough to cause pain and scrappy enough to avoid it when she could. The crowds weren’t her problem, though. That would be the presence behind her, causing her tattoo to burn.

DeAnna Browne graduated from Arizona State University with her BS in
Psychology. She finds it helps to corral those voices in her mind and
put them to paper. Her debut novel, A DEMON RISING, came out in
August 2017 with Black Opal Books and book two in the series, UNHOLY
SUNDERING, is due out 2018. An avid reader and writer, she has a soft
spot for fantasy with a touch of romance. Despite her love for food
and traveling, she always finds her way back to Phoenix, Arizona with
her husband, children, and pet dog.

Kitty Irish has heard all the rumors swirling around Daniel Phinney. Most of them involve a gun, a flask, and a temper. One chance encounter with the WWII veteran over a grisly find in the woods pulls the cover off the dark secrets of their small town, and Kitty is drawn into an unlikely partnership.

Armed with an antique rifle and a handful of homemade silver bullets, the two form an efficient team. Unfortunately, their game is werewolf hunting, and disaster is only a bite away.

Excerpt

The tang of old pennies hung in the air. Kitty was smart enough to know she hadn’t stumbled on some stash of long-buried loot. No self-respecting pirate would be caught dead in the middle of the Michigan woods.

That coppery smell was blood.

Maddie had the scent too. The golden retriever pressed forward, nose scuffling through the mulch. Her fluffy tail hung inactive. A wiggly rear end might divert too much energy from her nose.

Somewhere high above, a cloud ghosted over the sun, and the forest light grew dark green and cool. Kitty moved forward slowly. It would be just perfect to step into the middle of something completely nasty. Her shoes still looked mostly decent after a winter indoors. A big smear of muck across the toes would really round out her look.

Maddie suddenly growled, stopping dead. One paw hung suspended in the air and her body tensed.

“Maddie? What’s the problem?”

The retriever lowered her head to the ground, slowly pacing a circle. Kitty leaned over the spot that had thrown the dog off. Maybe it was a coyote. Maddie hated them.

A paw had indented the soft ground right where the aging dog had spooked. Kitty nodded—positive it was a coyote—and crouched down next to it to get a better look. Maddie circled around her, chest rumbling. Kitty knew a little about prints. Her dad had been pointing them out to her since she could walk. Deer and rabbit marks were everywhere, but this didn’t belong to one of the gentle guys. It had the four toes and pads of a predator, and it was big. Laying her hand over top of it, she could spread her fingers and barely cover it. Deep claw marks dug into the leaf mold ahead of the pads. Cats sheathed their claws when they walked; this was some sort of huge canine.

If this was a coyote, it was mutant. What sort of a thing made a print like that?

Kitty moved forward into the deep shadows under the trees. Something dead was in there. Flies buzzed and whirled under the trees. Maddie stayed where she was, guarding the print.

The carcass lay half-hidden under some ferns at the base of a broad oak. It was a deer, or what was left of one anyway. Its soft tan hide lay torn; its white stomach stained brown with dried blood. Great gashes ran the length of it, shoulder to haunches. Kitty’s stomach churned. This was about killing to kill; not one bite was missing. Sickened, she turned to leave, halting at the sight of the head. She had assumed it was at the end of the neck tucked away unseen under the bracken. She was wrong.

After nearly ten years as a forensic anthropologist, Tess Grant semi-retired to a farmette in the backwoods of Michigan. She lives at the edge of the Manistee National Forest with her husband, children, and a number of strange critters, none of whom are werewolves.

It’s the year 2330. At the end of the twenty-second century, the human
race has divided into two distinct groups—purebloods and the
‘modded’. Those who are unfortunate enough to be genetically
modified are now nothing but servants for their pureblooded
masters.

Living in this time, you know your place, and you do not cross the line. So,
when a violent death occurs in the Bronze District, Annalise is
ordered to take this as her trial run at Divinity PD to prove that
she can do the job as a member of the Human Possession
Department.

To defy her father’s wish to marry her off, and keep her Chief happy,
she is determined to solve this murder by any means necessary—even
if it means going to districts she has only read about in textbooks
and fighting her forbidden feelings for her servant.

With internal battles, dirty politics, and sinister secrets, just how
exactly will Annalise solve her Case: 0? And more importantly, will
she live to see her next one?

It’s official, Devlin is Annalise’s new partner. He’s charming,
caring—a perfect gentleman who caters to her every need. That is
until he starts to mix work with pleasure to convince her to marry
him as per agreement with her father.

With her servant, Mavel, gone from her side, the cracks in the wall she
created around her begin to come undone. To take her mind off the
torment her heart is going through, she takes on another possession
case in her old school, Montgomery Institute. But, what starts off as
a simple case full of bad memories twists into a web of deception and
lies involving everyone she cares about.

“Chief, is this some kind of a joke?” Annalise demanded, turning red with anger. “He can’t become my partner. He works for Falcon!”
Chief Sunderland reclined in his seat and released a heavy sigh. “Mr Madoc has a great track record in solving cases. You can take this offer or leave it. Remember, Storm, you can’t work without a partner.”
Devlin—the man she thought was killed during their escape from the Falcon facility in the Silver District—stood next to her with a beautiful smile on his face. He remained the same, strikingly handsome with majestic blue eyes that could keep any man or woman tethered on a spot for hours. She scanned his pristine charcoal suit, taking in his strong, broad shoulders and slim waistline. If she did follow her father’s wishes, she would be engaged to him and planning their wedding. She pushed the thought aside. He is part of the reason why Mavel is on the run.
“After what happened, I’ve been demoted,” Devlin explained.
“I chose this department because there was an opening.”
She scowled at him. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you will, Annalise. Falcon has no use for people who help prisoners escape,” Devlin added.
That left her speechless. He did help them get out with their lives. After that, Rios and Jamen were given the location of the facility by Mavel. They raided the place, but everything was gone. There wasn’t a smidgen of DNA that indicated anyone had occupied the damn building. With that hiccup, she was made to look like a fool, and the physical damage she took pushed more suspicion onto Mavel over the past three weeks. She had heard the rumours whispered behind her back. People started believing that Mavel hurt her, and she was trying to cover it up by shifting the blame. Lowering her head, she looked at the ground. Mavel was no longer her beast. The moment he wrote that letter, he had severed ties with her. Even though it was only yesterday that she had read it, it felt like a thousand years had passed.
“So, what’s your decision? Are you going to accept him as your partner?” Chief asked, pushing a digital tablet across the table towards her.
“I need an answer, Storm, because I have a case ready if you do.” Sparing one last glance at Devlin, she grabbed the tablet.
“What is it?” Chief smirked.
“We received a report this morning. A possessed basilisk was trying to attack one of the security officers at the Montgomery Institute for young girls. I chose you for this case as it’s a school listed in your file. It should be easier for you to investigate.”
Annalise cringed at the memory of the school she had spent most of her childhood and teenage years attending. The relentless ass-kissing she received from her teachers drove her mad. Each one wanted her to put in a good word with her father. She was planning to do that until the day she overheard her Physics and Mathematics teachers talking about her in the courtyard. She was nothing more than a pawn to them in the progression of their careers. Ever since, she avoided making any friends at school and spent most of her time with Mavel.
“Storm? For God’s sake, say something,” Chief huffed, smacking his palm on his desk to draw her attention. Her head snapped up, and she forced a smile.
“I’ll take the case, sir.”
“And him?” Chief nodded to Devlin who raised a brow when she glanced his way.
“I’ll take him as my partner as well, temporarily. In the meantime, I’m going to search for a new servant.” Devlin offered her his hand.
“It will be a pleasure to work with you.”
She shook his hand, feeling a light electrical current brushing her skin when they touched. Jerking her hand away, she marched out of the Chief’s office. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. While they worked together, she could press him to talk about the Falcon Group and find out more about them and how they operated. This could be an opportunity, and she had to take it. After all, he was only one man—a man who occasionally made her heart race.

May Freighter is an internationally bestselling author from Dublin,
Ireland. She writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Sci-Fi
mysteries that will keep you entertained, mystified, and hopefully
craving more. Her only pets are cacti. They’re the only things that
survived. It may be too dangerous to entrust her with an animal while
she’s engrossed in writing.

On sunny, rainy, and overcast days, she spends her time with her
fictional friends, putting them through dangerous adventures while
wishing them the best of luck. Her hobbies are photography, drawing,
and plotting different ways of a characters’ demise.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Bad Intentions. Get ready for Keys to the Coven, a witty, tightly plotted, (adult) urban-fantasy/romance set in an original universe where karma is power, sex is karma, and it’s not who you know but whose soul you own that matters.To become a demon, you must die in complete and utter despair. Three hundred years ago, Max passed that test with flying colors and joined the afterlife resolving never again to have innocent blood on his hands. Now Max has been given the job of breaking a young witch’s family curse. But what she doesn’t know, what Max can’t bring himself to tell her, is that completing his mission almost certainly means her death.When Felicity Woodsen inherits her mother’s coven, she learns each firstborn Woodsen daughter must become the consort of an evil-arch demon. Felicity’s only hope is to ally with the mysteriously charming Max. But is saving her body from one demon worth risking her soul with another?Roxashael became a demon when his Roman captors sent his family, one by one to be devoured by lions. The lesson was clear: power is good; lots of power is better. Two-thousand years later, Rocky has power. He’s purchased hundreds of souls, and he’s created the Minsk Homunculus, a magic artifact that, by binding a human witch as his consort, turns him into an arch-demon and places him above the goody-two-shoes laws of karma.Unfortunately, Rocky made a mistake. He fell in love with Felicity’s mother and in a moment of weakness promised to give up his demon-consort charm. Now Felicity’s mother is dead, the Minsk Homunculus is slated for destruction, and Rocky’s power as an arch-demon is about to end.No demon can break a promise. If Rocky refuses to give up the Minsk Homunculus, he’ll become the lowest, most abject slave in Hell. But then, why break promises when they’re so easy to corrupt?

Vicky Loebel began her professional life as a systems programmer for NASA and moved through successively more challenging careers before settling in as a writer of tightly-plotted, romantic fiction. She lives on the slopes of Mt. Lemmon, AZ with her sister, three dogs, a rotating assortment of children, and a husband who has the patience of a saint.

Emily Beresford is a professional audiobook narrator who is a nerd for books, no matter the genre. In 2013 she was nominated for an Audie Award and received an Earphones Award from AudioFile magazine, for her work on the Multi-Voice title October Mourning. She lives in Michigan with her wonderful husband, and two amazing children.